


Welcome North American Guild of Hunters!

by rosewindow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison needs a date. A male, human date, who knows about werewolves, and who she won’t mind spending the weekend at a conference with. It’s a pretty short list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome North American Guild of Hunters!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neenya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neenya/gifts).



> EDITED: 06-03-2013 Came up with a slightly better ending.

Allison needs a date. A male, human date, who knows about werewolves, and who she won’t mind spending the weekend at a conference with. It’s a pretty short list.

Last year, she’d gone with Eli, the son of a hunter her dad had been consulting with at the time. He’d been nice enough, and she thought about asking him again, but he’s apparently studying abroad in Eastern Europe.

She and Lydia have been hanging out with Danny more, so she asks him, but he’s got a prior engagement. Which pretty much just leaves...

“Stiles, would you stop fiddling with that? You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, jerking his hand away from the temperature controls in the back of the SUV. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“It’ll be fine,” she insists. “Just don’t tell anyone that your best friend’s a werewolf and no one’ll try and kill you.” She pats him on the knee and only enjoys the look of terror on his face a little bit.

\---

A sign just inside the hotel doors reads, “Welcome NAGH! Sorry no vacancies.”

Allison waves politely at a few people she recognizes while her dad checks them in. Stiles is acting like he’s about to be eaten alive, so she squeezes his hand reassuringly. He smiles at her - a bright sudden thing that she can’t help but return.

“Alright,” her dad says, handing her a key. “This is me trusting you. No alcohol, no guests, no loud music, no funny business. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” they snap in unison.

Stiles grins at her when her dad looks away. “We’re totally having a rager, right?” he whispers and she has to choke back a laugh.

Allison hangs up her dresses the second they get into the room, feeling Lydia’s judgemental eyes on her until she does. Lydia helped Stiles pack too, but apparently he’s gotten over obeying her every word because he ignores unpacking in favor of flopping across one of the beds.

“Hotel beds are the best,” he purrs, sinking into the mountain of pillows.

“What do people do at Hunter Conferences anyway?” he asks a few minutes later, apparently having tired of his ostrich impression.

“There’s panels and talks on different supernatural baddies and so forth, and there’ll be a whole room full of weaponry. There’s the big council meeting - you’re not invited to that, unfortunately. And then there’s the ball tomorrow night.”

“Right. I told you I can’t do like, proper ball dancing, right?”

She scoffs. “You think my dad can either?”

“He’s full of hidden depths that man.”

Allison throws the remote at him. He catches it easily - she forgets sometimes that he plays lacrosse too - and finds something mindless on TV.

\---

Stiles is in heaven the next day, and Allison lets him drag her from panel to panel. He’s taking notes and keeps muttering about how much help all this is going to be for his work on the Pack’s bestiary, and how he knew Peter wasn’t always giving them solid information. Allison does make him spend a good hour in the weapons room so she can ogle some new bows. But all too soon it’s time for the council meeting.

“I’ll text you when we’re done, okay?”

“Sounds good. I’ll just be upstairs updating the bestiary.” He leans over and kisses her cheek casually.

He jerks away, blushing. “Oh. Uh. Sorry about that. I- I’ll just be upstairs.” Then he’s gone.

Allison touches her fingers lightly to her cheek feeling dazed and off-balance. Her dad reappears and sweeps her into the meeting room.

She snaps herself out of, whatever that was, and focuses on the meeting. There are a few issues that need to be resolved - territory disputes, amendments to the Code, and the like - but most of the meeting is just a chance for the hunters to swap stories and gossip. The Argent Family Annual Report has already been submitted to the Heads of the Guild, but her dad still has to stand up and announce that Allison is eighteen, and that both of them are continuing their break from hunting for a while longer.

The crowd murmurs unhappily as he retakes his seat. She can’t take his hand, not here in front of all these hunters, but she sits up straighter so that their shoulders touch, and he looks down at her and nods. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

\---

Stiles is engrossed in his laptop when Allison returns to the room. “Oh hey,” he says, looking up with a small smile. “Meeting over already?”

She groans and collapses onto the bed next to him.

“That bad, huh?” He runs a hand lightly over her head and she curls into it.

“Let’s just find an SVU marathon or something and stay in all night.”

“Lydia would actually kill you if you didn’t wear the dress she spent so long picking out,” he says softly, running his fingers against her scalp.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she grumbles into the comforter.

He chuckles. “Lydia will _know_. She’ll just look at us and read the secrets off our faces.”

His fingers haven’t stopped moving, and she can feel the tension leaching out of her. “Do we have time for one episode of SVU?” she wheedles.

“There is always time for Benson and Stabler. Come here.” He pats the pillow next to him and tucks an arm around her when she curls up against his shoulder. “Just one though; we have to get ready for the ball.”

Three hours later she’s watching Ice-T interrogate a suspect when Stiles comes out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. Allison blushes fiercely at the sight of him, faced with a sudden reminder of the really rather nice body that he hides under his layers. His pinstripe pants and white button down are well-fitted, and he has a skinny tie looped around his neck. She has to repress an urge to yank him close with it, and then possibly tie him up.

He ties it quickly and neatly, which is probably for the best, but also means she has to repress the image of him tying _her_ up. She turns back to the mirror and pulls a face; she doesn’t even _need_ blush at this point.

“Silver, huh?” she asks, trying to focus on something - anything - else.

He laughs. “I thought it was a nice touch. I want everyone to know who’s date I am.”

They smile at each other and it’s starting to stretch into something that might be a moment when her dad knocks on the door between their rooms, and then comes in before either of them can move.

“Oh good. You’re ready. Let’s get this over with.”

They head downstairs like they’re going before a firing squad. The ballroom is full of people and a disconcerting number of them turn to look when they enter. Allison is allowed to take Stiles’s hand here, so she does. Her dad leaves them to talk to some friends, and she and Stiles head for a table near the dance floor.

"Retiring before you even get started, Argent?"

She doesn’t recognize the boys looming over the table, but she knows the type. They’re tall but not very big, and trying to look tough, which is hard to do in an ill-fitting suit. She decides that ignoring them is the best policy.

“That story must be total bullshit,” says Stiles, as if continuing a conversation. “There’s no way you took down a kanima single-handedly.”

“Well, he wasn’t shifted at the time,” she says, catching on.

“But he could have. At any minute. Oh, sorry, were you guys saying something?” He looks up at them blankly. “No? Good. Shall we dance?”

Stiles stands and offers his arm and then places his hand over Allison’s when she tucks it into the crook of his elbow.

The band is playing some sort of big band number and Stiles whisks her out onto the dance floor. He’s not half bad, and what he lacks in technical skill he makes up for in enthusiasm. They spin and whirl across the floor in time to the music. Allison’s dress swirls fabulously, so Stiles keeps twirling her around, and she feels giddy with it. The song crescendos to the finale. He swings her out and then back in close, plants one hand solidly on her lower back, and dips her low. There’s a smattering of applause from those nearby. Allison laughs nervously, and tries to rise more quickly than Stiles was expecting.

Their lips sort of - collide.

Stiles makes a surprised sound, but doesn’t move back right away, and Allison’s too scared of falling to do anything but freeze.

The moment doesn’t last, not even in Allison’s mind. It’s not romantic or dramatic or tender or anything. It’s just awkward, and then they’re upright and blushing.

“Uh. Sorry about that,” he says, running a hand over the back of his head.

“No. No, it’s okay. Uh... drinks?”

“Yes please.”

There are little knots of people scattered around the hotel lobby. Allison leads Stiles through them to the bar. The bartender winks at them. “Howdy Miss Argent. It’s been a while. Having a good time?”

A name surfaces. “Yes, thank you, Ryan. Did you ever solve that chupacabra problem?”

He laughs. “Not exactly. I just stopped keeping goats. What can I get for you and your date?”

“Whiskey on the rocks,” she says, trying not to react to the word ‘date.’

“The same,” Stiles agrees.

Ryan winks at them again as he pours their drinks.

They find a quiet corner, and sit and sip. Allison is extremely conscious of how small the plush ottoman is and how close she and Stiles are sitting.

“Do you want-” he starts the same second she says, “We could-”

He laughs nervously. “You first.”

“We could go back in, or...”

“Upstairs?”

She nods.

“Sure. I’m getting tired of dancing.”

Allison has never experienced a tenser elevator ride. It takes Stiles three tries to get the door open, and then he can’t figure out the light switch. Allison chuckles and reaches around to do it. Her hand brushes his arm and he shudders.

“There- there might be something on TV,” he says hurriedly, stepping into the room.

She grabs his sleeve. “Stiles.”

He turns to look at her. His eyes are wide and nervous and his mouth is open slightly. It’s easy to take another step into his space and press their lips together again.

He kisses more cautiously than he dances, testing the waters instead of throwing himself in. His hands settle lightly, so lightly, on her waist. She moves closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands stay where they were for a moment so that his wrists brush her sides and his hands grasp at nothing.

She pulls back. “Are you okay?”

“Scott,” he whispers, his voice tilting up at the end.

“I’m not Scott’s. I don’t belong to him.”

“No. No, I know you don’t,” he insists, but when he kisses her again, it’s deeper, more enthusiastic.

She gets one hand into his hair and one wrapped around his bicep. He guides them back towards the beds and sits down. She leans over him, keeping their lips connected, and plants her hands on his shoulders for balance. He licks and nips at her lips and keeps making the most distracting little sounds.

It’s hot in the room; Stiles must be burning up. She starts to remove his jacket, as a favor.

“Pajamas,” he says, nonsensically.

“What?”

“We should change. Put on pajamas. Oh that’s nice.”

Her tongue has found the moles just below his jaw line.

“Pajamas. Right. We should put them on, because I need you out of that dress, but if your dad comes in and finds us in a state of undress I’ll be dead. Literally. And I didn’t survive two years of werewolf shenanigans in order to end up dead in a hotel room, no matter how nice it is.”

She straightens up with a grin and turns around. “Unzip me.”

“I-uh- what?”

“Unzip me.” She shakes her hips. “I can’t get out of this dress without help.”

She hears him stand up. He wraps one broad palm around her hip and runs the other up her spine to the zipper pull between her shoulder blades. He slowly works it down, teasing his fingers against her bare skin as it’s revealed to him. The zipper ends at her lower back and he moves his hand to her other hip, keeping her still. She’s expecting the kiss to the base of her neck, but it’s still nice when it comes. She sinks into it for a moment before turning and finally getting her hands on his tie.

Allison unties it slowly and carefully. When it’s loose around his neck she gives in to her earlier impulse and pulls him close with it. He allows himself to be lead, grinning, into another kiss.

They get into pajamas.

Eventually.


End file.
